Last scene of all […] mere oblivion, sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything

July 8, 2017 § Leave a comment

I think this will be a short piece. And I’m going to try and get it up as is, because I don’t want to push myself into too much editing or the oh so common thought barrages of mine that always accompany any work, or really anything that I do or say.

This is important. I have been having a fairly rough time lately. This is partly why I feel it is necessary to address, but also so fucking difficult right now.

I went to the hospital a few weeks ago. Those who know me, know that I worry a lot but I so very rarely get help from anyone, least of all doctors, unless it’s very dire and/or I am brought there by someone else. This time followed a week or so of intense anxiety that I tried very hard to ignore, tried to tell myself it was just my mind, it’s nothing, you’ve gone through this before, etc. But no matter my efforts, the feelings and symptoms of what I thought was happening kept returning, culminating in the event where I called 911.

My anxiety was over my thoughts and feelings that something was wrong with my heart. I kept thinking I had heart disease, I was going to have a heart attack. I am almost 27, which scares the shit out of me anyway, and I’ll address later, BUT I know 26-27 is young in terms of heart health. I know this, logically. However, I also don’t think it was too far reaching of me to think I was dying in this fashion due to how horribly I’ve treated my body for so many years. I don’t want to go into too much justification of that because I am struggling not to think about it as we speak, trying to keep myself functional enough to write this.

On that particular day, I had been having anxiety about this all morning. I was alone, except for the cat. But what added and what continues to add to my fear is being alone because what if I died alone? If someone was there, if I couldn’t make the call, help might’ve been able to save me if I couldn’t etc.

In the evening, my fears abated somewhat until they returned beyond anything I’d felt before. Still similar feelings but exacerbated, to the point where I felt the need to make the call, honest to God, thinking I was having a heart attack. My heart was beating through my chest like a drum, I felt like it would explode out of me and my left arm started tingling and kept appearing to be a blotchy purple and white. I only grabbed my phone, left my keys even, not locking the door, because again, this was a terrifying experience for me. I thought I would pass out and die before I could finish the call, give my address, they could find me, etc. I wanted to be out on the street so neighbours and passersby could see and help hopefully and it would be the fastest I could get help.

I did not die. My heart rate and blood pressure were very very high, for a very long time as well, although I started to feel better, especially with regard to my arm when I was there with the paramedics. They calmed me down just with their presence, but also assuring me it was most likely a panic attack, my EKG was normal, etc. They even said I could go home again (we actually hadn’t left my street at this point, again strangely reassuring me that I wasn’t in as much danger as I thought). I had that option or else I could still go with them to the hospital to have everything checked out, which I did, because regardless of my feeling better, I think I could have very well had a panic attack shortly after in the night if I didn’t get myself completely checked in the ER first.

I ended up appearing to by fine. It’s attributed to a panic attack. Thank god.

HOWEVER, I have had about a panic attack now about once a week since then and even before that, I think I had one a few weeks before my 911 call here. It was different that time. That prior experience, I felt like I was losing control of my body, that my brain was fucked up, I had very intense vertigo and couldn’t think straight so it was harder for me to explain and to make the decision to call anyone. It passed after a while after I lied down but not before a lengthy and horrifying period of pain and fear and actual bodily ramifications.

I’ve written before about how I have felt very different lately. I am not suicidal or that borderline-suicidal where I engaged in things and substances I knew were extremely dangerous and knowing it could end horribly, but didn’t care about the outcome. If I died, that was fine, and if it wasn’t a suicide, my very sad and selfish brain thought that at least it wouldn’t hurt people that loved me as much. It was more an accident. This type of thinking is horrible and I cannot stress enough that it kills people. It is a very real threat to the mentally ill and it’s a horrible way to live for everyone invested. It’s strange though because at the time I wasn’t hurting from the way I thought. It was just normal to me and it felt right. Now that I’ve changed remarkably (still lots of work to do obviously), I care. I can see the difference and it makes me very sad for myself then.

The other big problem, which I’ve discussed already in my blog posts, is that now that I’m actively trying to get better, it’s actually really fucking hard due to my regrets. My head is clear, etc. and thoughts and memories of how horrible I was to so many people, so many bridges burned, my reputation with so many people, the years that seem lost and wasted to me, along with my “potential”, I can go on and on. Along with that, is my health. How has my body been affected? How badly?

And there’s the rub. With my now somewhat clearer head, one that is now more inclined to LIVE, this knowledge and the thoughts of what I’ve done have accumulated into this  relapse of anxiety and slew of panic attacks (I keep hoping that’s really all it is, but anyone with anxiety similar to this knows how fucking hard it is to accept that, and not continue to think what IF I really am the rare person of this age to die of heart failure etc).

I also just said relapse. So, what has been hard as well is that I have had panic attacks in the past, however it has been a very long time, almost ten years now and when I had them then, they were very different. I couldn’t breathe, had intense head rushes and my throat felt very hard, like it was turning to stone, or crushing into my neck, suffocating me. It was also very terrifying then, but different. That’s also in part what’s gotten me into this state now, because I’m constantly thinking, this isn’t a panic attack then, it’s different than before, I think I really am dying, etc.

It’s been very hard for me the past couple of months with all of this. I am honestly, barely functional. Because I can’t get this shit out of my head or out of my body. Even now, my chest feels this heaviness and I’ve been continuously checking my pulse, I get scared of doing things like showering or going to bed because I am scared that it’s more likely for me to die and then to not be able to get help, plus I’ll be ugly and/or naked when they find my body and that’s terrible and I don’t want that, I need to lie down, not do anything remotely hard to my heart, ugh…that was my rant but again, I’m writing this because these are really my thoughts and the way I’m thinking CONSTANTLY these days.

I also know that it sounds really selfish, I’m probably fine, I need to get my mind out of that place, but again, if you don’t know what it’s like, PLEEEEEEASE try and not say that to anyone you care about who has thoughts like these or any kind of  anxiety. Please just be there for them, hug them, tell them it’ll be okay, you love them. Don’t tell them they’re delusional/making it up/only thinking about themselves/need to focus on positives, whatever version of that. Because I know, and I can only speak with authority about my own experiences, but I know I don’t want to be like this. If I could stop this and stop thinking about myself like this all the time I fucking would. And I try, not hard enough maybe at all times, but I do. I try mindfulness and meditation and taking walks and a lot of other shit, which does work somewhat, for which I am grateful, BUT it keeps coming back. And I’m fucking tired. It’s fucking exhausting.

Anyway, I would like to know, from anyone with similar experiences, what you think, what you’ve gone through. And also, have you had a slew of panic attacks and anxiety where the symptoms of it were a specific way and then later on, panic attacks came back but the way they made you feel in your body/the symptoms you were feeling were very different? Anyway, that’s all. I really needed to say that, and I am hoping I am somewhat better soon because this is not a life right now for me. It’s awful.

I have a doctor’s appointment in a couple weeks and I’m going to request a full physical work up because I really just need to know there’s actually nothing physically wrong with me. Even just for my anxiety’s sake, I need that. And I’m obviously going to discuss more therapy options etc.

Thank you everyone that cares and loves me and always apologies to all the people I really do care for that I’ve hurt in the past, namely my family, but there’s many more, you know who you are if you are reading this. Thank you, be safe everyone.

Title quote, As You Like It -the Bard

 

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